


Prompt # 97: “Don’t Touch Me”

by jiichan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Arguing, Canon-Compliant, Cute, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Ice Skating, M/M, Olympics, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Winter Olympics, Winter Olympics 2022, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 23:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiichan/pseuds/jiichan
Summary: After a drunken night with some friends at the Olympic Village, Yuri may have screwed himself over big time. He can't remember a single thing from the night before, and Otabek's been ignoring him.A short fic with a cute ending.





	Prompt # 97: “Don’t Touch Me”

**Author's Note:**

> This is set for the Beijing Winter 2022 Olympics, so Yuri would be 19, approaching 20, and Otabek would probs be 22. I may expand upon this idea and incorporate it into a longer fic I'm working on. I was requested to do this prompt by a friend via tumblr, and it took me forever to get to it, but here it is!! Hope it's a fun read.
> 
> My first time formatting things on here, so if anyone would like to impart any advice, I'd appreciate it.

Yuri could’ve sworn Otabek was avoiding him. Once he’d gotten out of the rink, Otabek didn’t turn around when Yuri called after him and waved at him. He tried again at the hotel’s buffet an hour after his practice session, but Otabek gave no sign of even acknowledging him.

Sure, the Olympic village was crowded and noisy, but Yuri didn’t think it made sense. He was just left with some vague texts from Otabek last night and a hangover when he’d woken up this morning. In Yuri’s hazy mind, he barely remembered a thing.

At breakfast, Mila had told him all that she remembered since they weren’t together for most of that night.

“You were so shitfaced, Yuri. For someone who says he’s not nervous, that’s what you seemed like. Shouldn’t be, this is your _second_ Olympics,” she said.

Recalling his first Olympics in 2018 made him shudder. He’d gone through a growth spurt just the week before and everything felt wrong about his routine. He’d placed 7th and just wanted to curl up and die. Mila piled more onto her plate at the buffet and picked out a table.

Yuri was forcing himself to eat, his plate a mountainous formation of eggs and various carbs that his coaches would cringe at – especially Lillia. But with a speedy metabolism like Yuri’s, he got away with eating too much.

On his way to their table, he almost dropped one of the cinnamon rolls he’d snagged last-second.

“I’m _not_ nervous,” Yuri denied as he sat beside Mila, immediately shoving forkfuls of eggs into his mouth. His head felt like it could explode if he breathed wrong.

“Sure you’re not, Mr. Eight Shots of Vodka and Three Cheap Beers. How can you even drink that shit?” Mila made a disgusted face as she spread some jam onto some toast. She eyed Yuri, who was slow to come to his defense about his poor taste. He looked extremely tired. No amount of makeup she could apply to his face would hide the circles beneath his eyes.

“Whatever, someone has to have it,” Yuri said. He sighed, taking a bite from a muffin. “Can’t even remember anything,” he said around the chunk in his mouth.

“Yeah, that seems about right. I don’t even know how you’re awake today. Anyway, I wasn’t with you for most of it, but you were getting loud – and I mean loud for you, Yura. And pretty handsy, too.”

“Ah, Christ,” Yuri breathed, his head following the rolling of his eyes.

“Oh, Christ was the least of last night,” Mila joked. “When I left, I think you were grabbing Otabek’s ass.”

Yuri choked on his sip of water, a series of loud coughs following his surprise. He looked up at Mila once he mostly recovered, a warm blush falling over his face.

“Excuse me? I what?” He didn’t want to believe any of that. Even drunk, Yuri wouldn’t just feel up his best friend.

“Oh yeah, he looked ready to hit you. Think you getting clingy struck a nerve,” Mila said.

Yuri looked down at his place, his hands loosely folded in his lap. Any smidge of an appetite he had had disappeared.

“That explains the texts, I guess,” Yuri mumbled.

Mila looked up from arranging her pile of eggs.

“Texts? From Otabek?”

“Yeah, look at this.” Yuri dug into his jacket pocket and fished out his phone. He opened the messages from Otabek and held his phone out for Mila to read.

“’Give me some space tomorrow’? What the hell did you do, Yuri?” She handed him the phone back and Yuri shrugged.

“I dunno, that’s why I was asking you.” He placed the phone back in his pocket and then leant over his plate. If anything, he could at least force himself to eat.

“I’ll see if he’ll talk to me later. Do you know his room number?” Yuri asked, hoping Mila could dig up something.

She shook her head and his shoulders drooped.

“Could ask that Thai friend of Katsuki’s,” Mila pointed out. “He seems to know everything about anyone. It’s kinda scary.”

Yuri nodded, beginning his marathon breakfast. At least he’d be here a while.

**____________________________________**

After texting Yuuri about finding Otabek’s room, Yuri had headed straight there once he’d gotten the info. Phichit was pretty reliable, and Yuri was envious. Having a friend like that came with tons of convenience for sure. Yuuri had lucked out in Detroit.

Now, Yuri was waiting in front of Otabek’s room – at least what he was told was Otabek’s room. Knocking on the door scared him more than his performance in a few days.

As he stepped closer to the door, Yuri could feel cold sweat forming at his neck and back. He knocked three times, almost hoping no one answered.

“Beka?” He knocked two more times and then pressed his ear to the door to see if he could make out that anyone was there.

“Beka, I just wanna talk. If you want, we don’t even gotta open the door.”

An uncomfortable silence followed and Yuri sighed as he stood back up from leaning into the door.

Just as he was going to call it quits and leave, he heard footsteps coming down the carpeted hall. Turning to look, he felt frozen. Otabek was approaching and he did not look happy to see Yuri.

“Hey, Beka, can we – ”

“Thought I told you to give me some space today?” Otabek asked, pulling a room key from his pocket. His voice had none of its usual casual warmth in it.

“I just wanna talk,” Yuri said, taking some small steps forward. He set a hand on Otabek’s shoulder, which was met with a swat.

“Don’t touch me,” Otabek mumbled.

Yuri let his hand fall to his side. A kick in the stomach would’ve been easier to take.

“Beka, I’m sorry – I – ”

“Yuri, just go. Please.” Otabek unlocked the door, glancing up at Yuri.

Even with the added height from his growth spurt three years ago, Yuri felt like he’d shrunk in that moment.

Clenching his teeth, Yuri reeled forward, grabbing Otabek’s arm.

“Beka, just give me a second, please!” He sounded both pitiful and angry.

Otabek tugged away, but Yuri kept a tight grip on his jacket.

“Get off!”

“I don’t even remember what happened last night! Really!” Yuri stepped in, trying to get himself in the way of the door.

Otabek grabbed Yuri’s arm and shoved him against the door.

“That doesn’t matter – get outta my way,” Otabek growled.

The pain in Yuri’s back from the door handle digging into him hurt less than seeing the anger in his friend’s gaze.

“Beka, I’m serious – what did I do?” Yuri asked.

Otabek pressed Yuri harder against the door.

Yuri was tempted to overpower Otabek. He definitely could have, even if it wouldn’t be easy. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so with how scared he felt. What could he have done to make Otabek so angry?

“What happened?” Yuri asked again.

Otabek loosened his grip, looking up at Yuri, almost as if to decide if he could believe him.

“I don’t remember, Beka. Really. I’m sorry.” Yuri stayed against the door, still anxious Otabek would try to lock him out or leave.

“Nothing? At all?” Otabek asked slowly.

Yuri shook his head to confirm.

Otabek still held him against the door, his jaw tense.

“I’m sorry, really – ”

Otabek cut Yuri off with another shove.

“Stop saying that,” he muttered.

They stood there like that for a moment, Yuri’s impatience almost getting the better of him. But Otabek finally spoke.

“You kissed me last night. In front of – of too many people.”

Yuri stared at Otabek, his mind reeling. He’d what?

“Beka, I – ”

“Guess you don’t even remember _that_ – it doesn’t mean anything.”

Yuri felt a wave of anger surge in his chest. He grabbed Otabek’s shoulders, leaning in as if to intimidate him into some form of submission. He knew it looked bad, but he wasn’t sure he cared.

“What the hell, Beka, I was drunk!” Yuri spat, trying to get Otabek to see sense. Jumping to stupid conclusions was _his_ thing, not Otabek’s.

“Not drunk enough to not make fun of me for my crush on you, apparently,” Otabek shot back.

Yuri’s mind blanked.

“What’re you talking about?” Yuri shouted, a look of complete confusion on his face.

“As if you didn’t know!” Otabek looked more scared than angry by now. The two had been friends for almost six years, surely Yuri knew. Surely Yuri was trying to belittle him – take advantage of him. Since when was the feeling mutual?

“No, I fucking didn’t know!” Yuri’s grip on Otabek’s shoulders tightened.

“Then why were you acting like that last night?”

“I don’t know, Beka, I was fucking drunk! Why am I expected to know?!” Yuri shoved him back, letting out a harsh breath through his teeth. He blinked and looked away. He’d really fucked things over for himself.

“I was going to ask you out after making the podium,” Yuri said, practically whispering. Now that Otabek had put it all out, he could at least admit the feeling _was_ mutual.

Otabek’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t possibly be hearing the truth.

“Dammit, Beka – I like you! You think I’d make fun of you over this?” Yuri pounded his fist against the hotel door, making Otabek flinch with the sudden loudness.

“Just my fucking luck, getting drunk and spoiling my own damn confession in the worst way. Whatever,” Yuri breathed, pushing past Otabek. “I’ll get outta your way. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Yuri went down the hall toward the elevators. He felt so tense he could barely breathe right.

When he heard Otabek let himself into the room, the shutting door hit him like some final blow. All by himself now, Yuri jabbed at the elevator button, anxiety seeping into the pit of his stomach and making his limbs heavy.

**____________________________________**

Yuri couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of the day. His coaches were getting fed up with it, and Mila kept trying to ask him how things went. He’d told her he didn’t wanna talk about it.

Yakov had really had enough once Yuri missed his second quad in the first half of his program, landing right on his ass. It was a jump he’d surprisingly never missed yet in the program for as long as he was practicing it.

The balding man leaned into the boards at the rink, cursing.

“Yuri, what the hell was that?” Yakov shouted.

Yuri got up, dusting himself off, too tired to say something smart back.

“Start back from the beginning,” Yakov said.

Rolling his eyes, Yuri let himself glide slowly back toward the center of the rink. He just wanted to be in his hotel room.

**____________________________________**

Yuri was shaving in front of the mirror at his hotel room. Lillia had given him a short lecture about looking presentable at the Olympics, even if not much was happening yet. Any amount of stubble would be read as laziness, or so Lillia had said.

As he leaned closer to the mirror, straining his eyes to see his jawline with his head tilted to the side, his phone buzzed against the counter. Mila had said she would text him later. He set his razor down and picked up his phone.

The text was from Otabek.

“Meet me in the lobby. Bring your skates,” the text read.

Yuri almost wondered if the text was meant for somebody else. But all the same, it was attention from Otabek.

“What for?” He sent back.

The response was almost immediate.

“We should see some of Beijing before the games start.”

Tempted to leave immediately with his half-shaved face, Yuri tossed his phone to his bed and rushed as best he could without nicking himself.

Once he’d cleaned up, gathered his training duffel, and put a warm coat on, he rushed out of his hotel, heading downstairs.

Otabek was waiting in a chair in the lobby, sifting through the pages of a newspaper he definitely couldn’t read. Just seeing him being so calm put Yuri on edge. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t a friendly invitation – or Otabek being calm and collected.

 _Just act normal_ , Yuri thought to himself as he approached.

“Oi,” Yuri said, tapping the back of the newspaper. “Didn’t know you read Chinese.”

“I don’t,” Otabek said, folding it back up. He gathered his backpack and put it on. “My sister can, though.”

“Makes sense, she’s smarter than the both of us.”

“Definitely smarter than you,” Otabek joked, earning a shove at his shoulder from Yuri.

“We taking a taxi or your bike?” Yuri asked, buttoning his coat up and pulling leather gloves from his pockets. Even though he felt way too warm and was beginning to sweat.

Otabek immediately headed for the doors to leave. Yuri followed.

“My bike. Less hassle that way.”

Yuri nodded and tailed Otabek like a shadow to the parking garage. Otabek didn’t have a helmet to offer him, which he apologized for, but Yuri just shrugged it off.

Getting on behind Otabek felt silly every time ever since Yuri had gotten taller. Wrapping his long arms around Otabek’s slender build, Yuri could practically rest his chin on Otabek’s head if not for the helmet. He definitely would have, if just to poke fun at him.

Yuri got his legs out of the way and Otabek took off. The cold air pushed Yuri’s hood back as they zoomed out of the garage.

Although Yuri asked where they were going, Otabek didn’t answer. He just kept on his path southwards, the lights of the city passing by. Yuri was tempted to take a photo of the National Stadium as they made their way past it. Lights from beneath it lit it up. _The Bird’s Nest_ , it was apparently nicknamed. With its tangled, bowl-like shape, it definitely resembled one.

Otabek finally parked in the lot of a fast food joint, earning a confused look from Yuri, who was slow to get off the bike.

“You told me to bring my skates so we could eat?”

“No, we’re walking this way.” Otabek motioned for Yuri to follow him as he made his way to the sidewalk.

Yuri sighed and followed.

Following Otabek soon enough took them down a short hill towards a lake with a bridge running over it. The lake was shut in with a decorative cement border, and it was frozen over.

“This is Houhai, the black lake. Apparently we’re not unallowed to skate on it.” Otabek hung his backpack off one of the cement bridge posts.

“Surprised no one’s here.” Yuri did the same with his duffel on a different post, swinging his lets over the railing to sit on the ledge of the border. Otabek climbed down to the ledge of the border and did the same. They swapped their shoes for their skates in silence. Otabek got up first and offered a hand to Yuri, who declined and got on the ice awkwardly. He hadn’t skated on a frozen lake in years.

“Definitely not as noisy here,” Yuri mentioned, gliding along the surface of the dark lake.

The lamplight reflected on the surface of the ice reminded him of walking St. Petersburg at night. No matter where he went, street lamps seemed to always be incandescent orange.

“Yeah, it’s nice. Chris actually told me about this lake,” Otabek said.

Yuri gave him a sideways glance.

“Giacometti?” He asked.

Otabek nodded and Yuri chuckled.

“Didn’t know you two talked.” Yuri turned so that he was moving backwards, facing Otabek.

“Sometimes. He has good taste in books.” Otabek pushed forward, getting closer to Yuri.

Once he got into arm’s reach, Yuri glanced at him. The orange lights made Otabek’s eyes look even darker, and Yuri felt himself staring before a half-smile came across his face.

“You nerd,” he said, giving Otabek’s shoulder a lazy shove.

Out in the cool night air with the distant white noise of traffic, Otabek came to relax. The way he carried his shoulders loosely compared to earlier at the hotel was like night and day. Yuri felt less anxious seeing Otabek slide around on the ice, but he still couldn’t shake the image of Otabek’s angry, hurt gaze from earlier.

Yuri gave the ice a little dig with his skate, wondering how it’d hold up to a jump.

“I missed my second quad for the first time today,” he remarked, looking out along the frozen lake.

“How unlike the Russian Prodigy,” Otabek joked, eyes on Yuri.

“Does being a prodigy still count if you’re not sixteen anymore?” Yuri asked, mostly to himself.

“I dunno, I don’t have any personal experience there, Tiger.”

Yuri shot Otabek a glance at the nickname, earning a laugh from him.

“Shut up,” Yuri breathed, smiling.

He pushed off, giving himself some speed before setting up for his quad salchow.

The way the air moved past him as he spun felt different outside. Almost lighter. Or maybe it was just his mood.

He landed with a short _tack_ , letting himself glide a bit longer than usual before placing his back leg down.

“That looked fine to me,” Otabek said.

Yuri shrugged and leaned exaggeratedly into his turn, coming to meet Otabek.

The two of them grabbed each other’s arms, coming to an awkward stop.

“Listen, uh, about earlier,” Yuri started.

Otabek shook his head.

“I don’t care. You were drunk. I overreacted,” Otabek said, casting his gaze off to the side, down to the frozen lake.

Yuri’s lips tugged into a frown.

“No, you didn’t. I acted like an idiot.”

“And that’s new?” Otabek chuckled, glancing up at Yuri.

Yuri’s frustrated blush wasn’t hard to pick out in the dim lighting with how pale he was.

“I mean it,” Yuri’s grip on Otabek’s arms tightened. “I shouldn’t’ve drank that much. I complicated things for both of us. I’m sorry.”

Otabek shrugged out of Yuri’s hold and unzipped his jacket. “We’re fine now. But it still kinda sucks that my first kiss was with a drunk guy who tasted like Baltika.”

Yuri was a bit too shocked to join in on laughing.

“Your first kiss? Yeah, right.” He said, waiting for the relief of Otabek confirming him.

“I’m serious, Yuri,” Otabek said. “Well, sort of. I mean, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Otabek, you’re Kazakhstan’s top skater, how’ve you never been kissed?” Yuri felt almost offended over this. Sure, Otabek was a nerd, but not many people looked past his cool biker front. Yuri couldn’t wrap his mind around someone as hot as Otabek having never sucked face before.

“If it bothers you,” Yuri started, grabbing Otabek’s shoulders, “I could kiss you again? Sober?”

Just putting the offer out there made Yuri’s heart start hammering. Suddenly, the winter air didn’t seem cold enough.

“I mean, I know the games haven’t even started yet, but I still do intend to ask you out. So why not?” Yuri asked.

Otabek looked at Yuri and then let his gaze drop. He could be straightforward about a lot, but romance made him nervous somehow.

“Kiss me after you ask me out,” he said. “That way it feels like you actually want to.”

Yuri pulled Otabek closer, practically smothering the man into his chest.

“Then are you gonna go out with me or not?” He asked.

Otabek almost laughed. If steam could rise from Yuri’s face from his intense blush, it definitely would have with how cold it was.

“Beka, c’mon – yes or no question,” Yuri pressed.

Otabek smiled, grabbing Yuri’s wrists.

“Sure,” he answered.

With a triumphant, smug smile, Yuri grabbed Otabek’s face and leaned in, kissing him like a prize.

It took Otabek a second to kiss back, the surprise of the swiftness of the action not having initially registered. He felt Yuri’s hands relax and take their place at his neck.

When Yuri broke the kiss, he sounded out of breath. Otabek looked up at him, meeting his gaze.

“How was that?” Yuri asked.

Otabek was torn between being sentimental and sarcastic. He stuck with his default.

“Not too bad. At least it didn’t taste like Baltika this time.”

Yuri laughed and grabbed Otabek at his waist. He hoisted Otabek into the air and then draped him over his shoulder.

“That’s all you have to say is to judge my taste in cheap beer?”

“Hey, put me down, asshole,” Otabek said through laughs.

Yuri tried, but his lats gave out on him from laughing, sending the two of them into a tangle so they didn’t fall. They gripped each other’s jackets and then broke into a fit of childish giggling.

“It’s cold as hell out here, let’s go back,” Yuri said, straightening up.

“Yeah, can’t be catching a cold before the games.” Otabek pushed off towards the snow by the lake.

“Think I could drive the bike?” Yuri asked, following.

“Not a chance, Yurka,” Otabek said as he swapped his skates for his shoes. The new nickname was like a pleasant little shock.

“Oh, it’s Yurka now, huh?” Yuri joked, stepping off the ice and digging around the snow for his guards to put on his skates.

“Sure, why not?”

“M’kay, Beshka,” Yuri said, smirking as he climbed up the border of the bridge to get to his shoes.

“Don’t call me that,” Otabek laughed.

“Oh, so you can call me ‘Tiger’ and ‘Yurka,’ but I’m not allowed ‘Beshka’?”

“No way,” Otabek said, tugging his shoes on.

“Okay, Otya,” Yuri said as he tied his shoes.

The two of them gathered their bags and headed back to the parking lot. Yuri slipped his hand into Otabek’s back pocket, walking alongside him.

“C’mon, lemme drive the bike,” Yuri said again, already seating himself where Otabek should be.

“No, scooch,” Otabek said, shoving at Yuri.

“My legs are way too long, man,” Yuri sighed, stepping back, the bike low enough to rest between his legs.

“That’s your own fault for being so tall,” Otabek teased, getting on the bike and putting his helmet on.

Yuri got his arms around Otabek as they sped off back to the Olympic village. He didn’t think he’d sleep at all, but at least now it’d be for a good reason.


End file.
